


Look Up and See the Stars

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin BBC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-09
Updated: 2010-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-16 19:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rentboy!Arthur, space age AU, lots of angst. Written for snottygrrl. Warning: dub-con</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Up and See the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this

The third moon had just crested the horizon, its round shape slightly distorted through the thick shell that covered the city. Arthur watched the pale shadows creep across the ground, his father’s words ringing in his ears. _No son of mine will speak to me that way. If you do not apologize, I will disown you. You will have nothing—no money, no home, no—_

Arthur had walked out the door, slamming it behind him. He wasn’t going to apologize. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch Uther condemn innocent people to hard labor in the mining camps or a life in one of the grim prisons on Galos IV. He wasn’t going to marry the daughter of one of the rich Fleet Captains just to please his father.

It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to go crawling back, though. Uther owned everything on Galos—everything and everybody. And if you were on the outs with Uther Pendragon, no one else wanted anything to do with you. The next day, Arthur’s landlady came and asked him to leave. She stammered out some excuse about needing to remodel the apartment, but Arthur knew the word had gotten around. No one else would give him a room, and he finally had to settle for a cramped space, hardly bigger than a closet, with peeling paint and no hot water. And he only got that because the landlord was so drugged out on moon spice that he didn’t even remember his own name, let alone Arthur’s.

He couldn’t get a job, either. Uther had closed down his bank accounts, left him with nothing but the money in his pockets. When he tried to take a ship off-world, he was told that Governor Pendragon had revoked his travel privileges. Uther was closing off every exit, every escape route. Arthur wandered to the edge of the domed city and looked out on the barren, grayish-green dirt that stretched off to the distant mountains. No oxygen, temperatures well below freezing. That was an escape. But no—he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet.

There was one thing he still had—one thing he could get people to pay him for. He knew he was attractive, his body fit from long hours in the gym, a smile that he could tilt in a certain way to signal his interest. Uther didn’t have to know about this—about Arthur on his knees in a grubby alleyway sucking some stranger’s dick, the re-circulated air fetid and stale in his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath afterwards.

They weren’t all strangers, though. One man, dressed in a nice suit, approached him on the street and wanted to take Arthur back to his place. It wasn’t until they were in the man’s kitchen, and he flicked on the light, that Arthur recognized him—some business associate of Uther’s. He didn’t remember his name, but he remembered him sitting at a conference table, slowly sipping a glass of water.

At first, Arthur thought the man didn’t know who he was. But then he stepped up to Arthur, put his thumb against Arthur’s lips, and whispered, “I always thought your mouth was made to suck cock. Gonna have that tight ass of yours tonight, boy.”

Arthur did what he asked—worked himself open, begging like he wanted it, straddling the man’s lap and riding his prick. A week later, the man came back. “I saw your father yesterday,” he told Arthur while he thrust into him, panting, gripping Arthur’s hips. “Didn’t tell him about this, just mentioned I had seen you. He said you owe him an apology.” The man chuckled. “Guess you aren’t daddy’s boy any longer, huh? Good thing you have such a nice ass and can moan like a proper whore.” And Arthur realized that whatever this unctuous bastard had said, Uther had seen right through it. Shame burned through him. His father _knew_. Arthur wondered if his father would still want him now, even if he did apologize.

One evening, a few weeks later, Arthur went to a bar he favored, a place that usually had a few drunk and lonely patrons willing to pay for the chance to fuck him. The place was packed—apparently some wedding guests had stumbled over from the reception, wanting to dance and drink for a few more hours. The bride and groom were giggling and kissing at a table. Arthur surveyed the throng—nothing like a wedding to make some people feel depressed about their own lack of a partner—and settled on a man leaning against the bar. Thin, dark hair, large ears—but he had a nice tux and the smile on his face as he watched one of the bridesmaids careen around the dance floor stirred something in Arthur. He looked kind, like he might stroke gently and whisper soft words instead of thrusting hard and grunting insults.

Arthur realized he had made a mistake only after stepping up to the man and offering a smile. Up close, the man’s tux looked cheap, his shoes scuffed. But he was already smiling back at Arthur, flushing a bit. “I’m Merlin,” he said. “And please don’t ask me to dance. I’m a terrible dancer.”

It would have been easy to make some cutting remark and leave, but Arthur found himself saying, “I’m not such a great dancer myself, so no worries,” and telling Merlin his own name.

“So no dancing—how about if I buy you a drink?” Merlin said, fingers tugging nervously at his cufflinks.

And again, Arthur should have said no, but he said yes.

Merlin did most of the talking—he worked at one of the ore refineries, took night classes, had known the bride, Gwen, since they were kids, and liked doodling random shapes on his napkin with long fingers that Arthur imagined curling around his own.

“I ate three pieces of wedding cake, but I’m still kind of hungry,” Merlin said, and he knocked his knee against Arthur’s leg. “Want to go get something? There’s a good sandwich shop around the corner, open all night.”

And here it had to stop. Arthur forced a suggestive smile onto his face and raised his eyebrows. “All night? Five hundred—a special deal just for you, baby.”

Merlin gaped at him, flushed bright red, and started stammering. “I didn’t—I—I’m sorry…”

Arthur shrugged. “No hard feelings. Have to be moving on, though.” He slid off the stool and walked out of the bar, knowing he couldn’t stand staying and watching Merlin’s sweet blue eyes.

He heard footsteps behind him as he walked down the street, and he paused, turned. Merlin skidded to a stop, face still red with embarrassment. “I don’t have much money. I couldn’t pay you,” he began, and Arthur started to say that he had realized that, Merlin didn’t have to apologize to him for fuck’s sake, but Merlin continued, laying a hand on Arthur’s arm, “But I could make you dinner. You could stay the night—sleep on the couch, if you want. I mean, we don’t have to…” He trailed off, took a deep breath, and finished in a small voice, “I just liked you, that’s all.”

They were the first kind words Arthur had heard in what seemed like forever. It was a bad idea, he knew, because it couldn’t last, but maybe just a few hours—just a few. “You don’t look like much of a cook,” he said aloud, but Merlin understood for he grinned and slipped his hand into Arthur’s.

“Well, we could pick something up,” he said, suddenly shy.

Merlin’s apartment was small and shabby. There was a photo on the fridge—Merlin standing next to an older woman, his arm around her.

“That’s my mother,” Merlin said, taking off his jacket. “She lives down by the spaceport, but she’s been in the hospital a lot these past few months. When I get enough money saved up, we’re going to get out of this place—head for Enterrium or maybe Oktos III. Somewhere with plants and rivers and fresh, clean air.”

“Sounds nice,” Arthur whispered, and he kissed the side of Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin smiled and put his arms around Arthur, kissing him back. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “Let’s eat and then call it a night. You look exhausted.”

He did end up in Merlin’s bed because he couldn’t fit on the couch without his knees practically hitting his chin. But Merlin just held him, fingers slowly combing through his hair until he fell asleep.

The following night was bad because all Arthur could think about was Merlin while a guy in a black jacket and boots shoved him up against a wall, jerked down his pants, and rutted against him. Arthur gritted his teeth and pressed his face into his arm.

He avoided the bar where he had met Merlin, but one night when he was slumped on the stairs outside his room, feeling sore and dirty, idly wondering what it must feel like to have rain falling from the sky, there was the sound of hesitant footsteps, and he looked up to see Merlin standing there.

“You didn’t call,” Merlin said after a moment.

Arthur shrugged. “Nothing to say.”

Merlin stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking his foot against the curb. “You could come stay with me. If you wanted.”

Arthur sighed and stood up. “Do you know who my father is? Uther Pendragon.” Merlin flinched at the name, and Arthur went on grimly, “If he found out you were helping me—he could get you fired, stop you from ever leaving Galos.”

Merlin lifted his chin. “I’m not afraid of Uther Pendragon,” he said, and to Arthur’s shock, his eyes flickered with gold.

“You have magic?” Arthur breathed, and Merlin nodded. Shaking his head, Arthur grabbed his shoulder. “Then it’s even more dangerous for me to be with you. You know what my father would do to you if he found out.”

Merlin started to protest, but Arthur shoved him away. “ _Go_ ,” he said, and disappeared inside, curling up on his mattress and staring at the wall.

A few days later, Arthur jolted out of a restless sleep to find that it was late afternoon and someone was hammering on his door. Still half-asleep, Arthur opened it, and Merlin pushed inside. He was holding a blanket and a bag. “Come with me,” he said. “I know a place—a place where no one else will see us.”

And Arthur couldn’t say no, not when Merlin gave him a little kiss on the cheek and a hopeful smile.

Merlin took him to an abandoned building on the very edge of the dome. They climbed long flights of stairs, finally emerging into a large, empty room with no ceiling. Looking up, they could see the stars.

Merlin spread the blanket on the floor and took out some beer and paper plates and a casserole packed in a plastic container. “My mom made it,” he explained, blushing.

It was good, even if it brought back the deep yearning that had settled into Arthur’s soul long ago.

They stretched out on the blanket afterwards, and Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand. “Three more weeks, and I’ll have enough saved to buy tickets,” he said quietly, and Arthur’s heart ached, sharp and painful.

“You could come with us,” Merlin added after several long, silent minutes had passed.

“I can’t. Uther would stop me—and whoever was helping me.”

Merlin tightened his grip and the next second he rolled over, leaning on his elbow and looking down at Arthur. “I wish—” he began, and then stopped, brushing soft fingers across Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur caught his wrist, pulled him down, and kissed him deeply. “We don’t have to,” Merlin mumbled against his mouth, but Arthur reversed their positions, trapping Merlin’s body with his own, staring into his eyes.

“Let me have this,” he whispered. “Please.” And Merlin nodded, putting his hand against Arthur’s chest. They froze for a moment, feeling how they fit together, watching as Merlin’s hand moved in time with Arthur’s breath.

Their lovemaking was slow, fingers traveling over bare skin, learning the sensitive spot behind Merlin’s ear, each bump and dip in Arthur’s spine. Lips followed fingers, Merlin whimpering when Arthur traced the peak of his nipple and kissed the inside of his thigh. Long legs wrapped around Arthur’s hips, and Merlin nodded, yes, guided Arthur’s fingers. He buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, thrusting shakily, erratically, listening while Merlin murmured to him, _beautiful, always, darling, feels so—_

As he walked back down the stairs, every footstep reverberated within him, leaving him chilled and numb, his fingers sticking to Merlin’s when they parted in the shadow of the door.

After that, he couldn’t summon the effort it took to pretend and finally a fist slammed into his jaw, a hard shove sent him sprawling on the ground, and the man stepped over him, muttering, “worthless slut.” He went to his room and sat in the dark on his mattress, face throbbing.

Cool fingers roused him, Merlin whispering, “It will be all right.” The harsh light above the mirror, a cold cloth against his jaw, and Merlin’s eyes going gold. Arthur’s face shimmered, and suddenly a stranger stared at him—brown hair, a thick jaw, crooked nose and teeth. “See, I have the papers, your ticket,” Merlin said, fumbling eagerly, pushing them into Arthur’s hands. “Tomorrow. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

It seemed like a dream, too good to be true. His hands trembled when he handed the official his identification, sure that everyone could see the magic emblazoned on his body. But they waved him through, clutching his small suitcase. He stumbled to his seat, and Merlin’s mother squeezed his arm. And then Merlin was there, taking his hand, his eyes laughing and shining with excitement.

The ship shuddered to life, moving into space, and Galos diminishing rapidly behind them.

They ended up in a backwater village on Oktos III. Merlin found a job at the local school, and Arthur stayed at the house with Hunith, learning how to plant crops, build a barn, and cook pancakes for Merlin in the mornings.

“It isn’t much,” Merlin said one evening, his head resting on Arthur’s sunburned shoulder.

“It’s home,” Arthur replied.


End file.
